


It Takes A Skill

by cori_the_bloody



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, One Shot, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy's feeling glum about all the doom and gloom in her life. When she can't even use her sister's cheer-up gift, Spike is there to help out. (Based on the prompt "It takes a skill")</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes A Skill

**Author's Note:**

> **Word Count:** 2,130  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or the universe. I'm just playing around inside.  
>  **Author's Note:** Thank you to demandingbillydolls (from tumblr) for prompting me _and_ being my beta. This takes place during s5 between "Intervention" and "Tough Love." There's a slight canon deviation. Enjoy!

As usual, Dawn bursts into her room without knocking or asking.

"Hello, privacy!" Buffy jumps off her bed—where she'd been perched, stoic, for an amount of time that, okay, didn't exactly make her a model of health—fully prepared to manhandle Dawn back out into the hall.

Dawn goes into full-on pout mode, though. "Willow, Tara, and I just got back from the mall. Don't ya wanna see what I got?"

Buffy's resolve, not to mention her desire to be alone, crumbles under Dawn's pleading stare. "Fine," she sighs, sitting on the edge of her bed and patting the space next to her.

Dawn screeches happily and bounces her way over, shopping bags on either arm. "Okay, okay, so…” She rifles through one of the bags then holds up a book with a purple, crushed velvet cover. “Tara got me a new journal to replace the ones I…well, you know.”

Buffy raises her eyebrow, nodding. “That was nice of Tara.”

“Yeah-huh,” Dawn agrees. “And I bought this for myself.” She rifles through another bag and pulls out a black tank top with Hello Kitty’s bejeweled face displayed prominently on the front.

“Cute,” Buffy says.

“And, because you’ve been Stressed Girl so much lately, we pooled our money to get you some stuff. I mean, it was my idea, but Willow and Tara helped me pay for everything.”

Buffy combs her fingers through a strand of Dawn’s hair and then tucks it behind her ear. “You guys didn’t have to do that.”

Dawn unloads a stack of magazines from the same bag her new journal was in. “We know that. We wanted to.”

Buffy flips through the top one, noticing a few intriguing skirts. “What else ya got?”

Dawn claps, pleased by her reaction. “There’s this red lipstick that Willow and I picked out.” She passes Buffy a tube, who frowns thoughtfully before nodding. “And, of course, a bag of suckers.”

“Yummy.”

“Aaaand,” Dawn drawls, building up to the last gift, “A new earring for your cartilage!”

She hands over a tiny, blue box. Buffy flips the lid to find a delicately woven silver hoop. Instead of a clasp, a teal, marbled ball snaps in and out of suspension.

“It’s beautiful, Dawn. Really, thank you.”

Her sister squeals a little and falls into Buffy’s arms for a hug.

###

Buffy wasn’t even sure when it’d happened.

She’s standing in front of her bathroom mirror, trying to force her new accessory into the hole that _used_ to exist in her ear.

She doesn’t remember taking it out—her old earring—but she does know that once her mom got sick she’d stopped taking so much time to accessorize.

It’s not even a big deal, this closed hole.

But with Glory and all the death and Riley leaving…well, the metaphorical resonance is getting to her.

She slumps down on the toilet, pinching Dawn’s gift between her fingers. A few tears dribble down her cheeks before Buffy swipes them away and takes a deep breath. She has to go on patrol.

She has to get away for a bit.

###

Maybe it was that last vamp that’d thrown her into a mausoleum so hard her head had cracked painfully against the stone. Or maybe it was just stir craziness. But when Spike swoops in while Buffy’s fighting a trio of lizard-looking demons, she feels kind of… _grateful_.

One’s on top of her and she’s been separated from her axe. The other two, having picked themselves off the ground, are closing in on her when Spike flies through the air—looking absurd and bat-like with his duster billowing.

He rips the demon off Buffy, who kicks herself to her feet and then lands a punch to the stomach of one of the demons charging her.

“Slayer,” Spike calls before tossing her the battle-axe. Buffy catches it and decapitates two of the lizards with one swing. Spike snaps the spine of the third and drops it to the ground. “Always got yourself in some pickle or another, eh?” he asks, lighting a cigarette.

“Comes with the doom and gloom package.” Buffy does a fancy twirl with her weapon and starts walking on through the cemetery.

“Come now,” Spike falls into step beside her. “Don’t tell me you’re still whistling that tune. You know you revel in the mayhem as much as me.”

“ _No one_ revels in the mayhem as much as you, Spike.”

“Are you trying to flatter me, Slayer?” She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything. “What, no witty come back? You feelin’ alright?”

Buffy glances over at him. The swelling has gone down, but his face is still a violent swirl of red, navy, yellow, and other bruise colors—curtesy of Glory. He cocks a brow at her.

His stare is so discerning that it makes Buffy shiver. “I’ve had a long day,” she says finally.

“Tell me about it.”

“Pass.”

Spike scowls at her. “Might help.”

And then he pouts out his lower lip and Buffy finds herself saying, “Let’s see, I broke a dish trying to scrub congealed cheese off it, I accidentally added red underpants to a load of whites and dyed a bunch of socks and undershirts streaky-pink, I can’t wear the present Dawn got me because my piercing closed up, and—oh yeah—a hell goddess with a seriously one-track mind wants to destroy everything I care about.”

“Red underpants, you say?”

Buffy scoffs and shoves Spike away from her. “Have I reminded you that you’re a pig lately?”

He laughs, catching back up with her easily. “What’s this about a piercing being closed up?”

“I had my cartilage pierced before and the hole closed up. There really wasn’t more to the story.”

“Can open it back up. All you need’s an ice cube and a needle. Though you’ve got Slayer endurance. Probably could get by with just a needle.”

She snorts. “Yes, because all I need is Dawn to slip and puncture my eardrum. No homemade holes in my body, thank you.”

“Wasn’t suggesting the little bit do it.”

“Oh, yeah, and wh—” Buffy breaks off, catching on. “No way, Spike. Not in a million years.”

“I’ve got a good bit of practice is all. Shoulda seen me back in the eighties.”

“And yet, somehow, I think I’ll manage to go on without that mental picture.”

“Just sayin’, I can do your ear right quick. No muss, no fuss.”

She _must_ be going crazy. Why else would she be considering this?

“You’ve done it before?” Buffy asks.

“To myself and others.” Spike touches the tip of his tongue to his teeth suggestively, and Buffy has to suppress her gag reflex.

“Dawn _will_ go all guilt trip-y on me if she doesn’t see me wearing the thing soon.” Buffy turns it over in her head some more. And, really, what’s the harm? It’s not like she’s trusting Spike with her life. Just her ear. Plus, it would be nice to have an easily solvable problem for once. _No muss, no fuss_. She throws her hands up in surrender. “What the hell. You busy now?”

Spike smirks triumphantly.

###

“Shh,” Buffy says as they walk up the porch steps. “Dawn’s sleeping and I don’t want to wake her up.”

She walks into the house and has bounded up a few stairs before Spike clears his throat. “Uh, Slayer.”

He’s stuck in the doorway. _Oh right_.

She clears her throat. “Come in, Spike.”

His face softens and he looks kind of reverent as he steps over the threshold. It makes Buffy squirm, so instead of dwelling she turns on her heel and takes the stairs two at a time.

Spike’s boots clunk after her.

Buffy goes into the bathroom to retrieve a needle and the earring she’d left in there earlier. Spike stands in the doorway, watching her.

“So where do we…?”

“Might wanna sit or lay down,” Spike shrugs. “Bedroom?”

He waggles his eyebrows. Since something about him puts a damper on her self-control, Buffy strides forward and punches him in the face. Except she does it a little harder than intended, and he flies back into a wall. A framed photo of Joyce, Dawn, and Buffy crashes down on his head.

“Buffy?” Dawn calls.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Buffy snaps at Spike.

“Oh, that’s right. All _my_ fault.” Spike rolls his eyes and wipes the blood from his lip.

Dawn comes out into the hall, holding her math textbook over her head like a weapon. “Spike?” she relaxes when she sees him. “What are you doing here?”

“Spike and I are just,” Buffy reaches for a cover story, but it’s late and she comes up short.

“Heard you got your sister some bling,” Spike says.

Dawn’s nose crinkles and she rubs her eyes sleepily. “You guys are being weird.”

Buffy sighs. “Spike’s going to pierce my ear,” she explains.

Dawn perks up. “Oh, can I watch?”

“It’s 4 in the morning! Go back to bed.”

Dawn clasps her hands under her chin and bats her eyelashes. “Pleeeaaase.”

“Won’t take but a minute,” Spike interjects. “Just let her watch and then we’ll tuck her in and send her back off to dreamland.”

“No helping,” Buffy points a warning finger at him.

“I’m already up,” Dawn points out. “And you’re probably going to make a lot of noise, so I won’t be able to fall back asleep till you’re done anyway. And—”

“Alight! Fine,” Buffy relents, grumbling all the way to her bedroom as Dawn and Spike trail behind.

She sits on the edge of her bed, and Spike leans in close to examine her ear, carefully brushing her hair back behind her shoulder. All of Buffy’s nerves stand at attention, having him so near to her neck.

Dawn hovers over Spike’s shoulder. “So whatcha gonna do? Just shove a needle though?”

“Essentially.”

Dawn makes a face. “Isn’t that going to hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” Buffy assures her. “Slayer strength, remember.”

“Oooh, can I do it?”

“No!" Spike and Buffy snap at the same time.

“It’s just, it takes a skill, niblet,” Spike adds.

“I have skill,” Dawn pouts.

“No doubt,” Spike smiles kindly at her as he flicks out his zippo and starts disinfecting the needle. Buffy feels herself relax. “But you don’t want to accidentally harm big sis, am I right?”

“No,” Dawn sulks after a moment, crawling onto the bed. “Why are you doing this anyway?” she asks Buffy.

Buffy shrugs, sisterly instinct encouraging her to lie. “Just thought it’d be fun.”

Spike snorts. “Alright, watch closely niblet. If Buffy ever has the urge to be fun again—though it’s doubtful—you can do the deed.” Buffy glares at him, but Spike is unaffected. “The trick it to make it clean and straight.” He tugs Buffy’s ear delicately and she feels the cold point of the needle against her skin. “On the count of three, then?”

Buffy nods.

“One,” Spike starts, but then he jabs the needle through her skin. It pinches, and Buffy yelps in surprise, but the pain dissipates quickly.

Dawn flinches. “Oh, man, I missed it.”

Buffy rubs at her ear, wincing a little. “That’s probably for the best. Let’s get you to bed.”

Dawn frowns, but she doesn’t argue, letting Buffy lead her down the hall with a hand on her lower back. Spike follows behind and lounges against the doorjamb as Buffy tucks Dawn back into bed.

“Rest up,” Buffy smooths the hair out of Dawn’s face. “We have a meeting with your principle tomorrow morning.”

Dawn groans. “Oh. Right.”

“Sweet dreams.” Buffy kisses her forehead.

“Don’t let the demons bite,” Spike adds.

Dawn’s asleep before the door is completely shut. Buffy takes the earring out of her pocket and holds it out to Spike. “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head and takes the jewelry from her, tenderly easing it into the new hole. “Posh,” he says after it’s in.

Buffy fingers the marbled ball. “Thanks.”

Spike’s looking at her with those eyes that sometimes make her think he actually _does_ love her—the soft, gooey, just-baked cookie eyes. “What are mortal enemies for?” he jokes.

“Right.” Buffy nods.

“Well, sun’ll be up soon. Better head out.”

She follows him downstairs. “Bye,” she gives him a little wave as he clomps down the porch steps and eases the door shut behind him.

So Spike has an open-invitation to her house once again and her ear tingles with the cold memory of his gentle fingers. She should have known such a mundane problem as a closed piercing wouldn’t have an easy solution. Not with her topsy-turvy life.

Feeling confused and exhausted, Buffy trudges up the stairs, the cobalt blue of dawn washing everything in a whitish-grey.


End file.
